Tied UP
by Amberssister
Summary: Sorta AU. Set post S1. Owen and Ianto are doing not alright things. O/I, but J/I driven. R/R.Sorry about the delay, but this is finally complete!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I wrote this ages ago, and because it's definitely AU, and maybe even crack, I haven't posted it. I like it though, so I present it to you fine folk.**

_**WARNING**_**: ****Coarse language**** (Owen has a mouth that could make a truck-driving sailor cringe). And because its Torchwood there is always the chance there will be slash, mentions of slash, allusions to slash, or significant glances in slash's direction. Slash could fall out of the Rift. You** **never know**.

Neither of them had bothered to turn on a light and the room was pitch-black and sticky hot. Owen pushed the sheet off and tried his best not to feel awkward. He was used to sharing a bed, to feeling the weight and heat of somebody sleeping beside him. He picked up girls whenever he could, and those nights usually ended with tangled limbs in tangled sheets. This was different though. This was a co-worker, a friend, someone he cared about. Though his manner would never show it, Owen was always awkward and slightly bitter on these nights. Even in the dark he could see distant blue eyes staring off into space, wide-awake and wishing Owen was somebody else. _Wishing I was him. _Owen thought. _Always wishing I was that stupid git. What am I, deficient in some way?_ Owen tried to tell himself that he was wrong, the day after he could _convince_ himself that he was wrong, but in the dark, laying in the heat and smelling of exhaustion and sweat, he knew better. He sat up suddenly and turned on the light. He ignored the soft groan of protest that came from his left and fished under the bed for his pants. He pulled them on and left the room without a word.

He headed straight into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of expensive scotch. It had been a _really_ bad day. Jack had died, Tosh had been injured, Gwen was in a pissy mood, and Ianto had been edgy and biting, the way he always got when the Captain was killed. Then, as if he _needed_ it to be any worse, Owen had spent the evening indulging in a self-destructive affair that never left him feeling good. Oh, yeah, that was just _brilliant_. Being sober was just a bit too much to top off a day like this.

He pulled down a tumbler and filled it half way. As an afterthought he poured out another and, drinks in one hand, bottle in the other, he headed back into the bedroom. When he walked in he surveyed the tableau in front of him and felt vaguely sick. His eyes locked on swollen, bruised looking lips and he realized he didn't know whether he wanted to kiss and bite them, or smash them with the bottle. Probably both. Defiantly both.

Owen closed his eyes and tried to swallow his anger with a gulp of scotch. It didn't work; he could still feel it sitting like a stone in his throat. He sat on the edge of the bed and passed the other drink.

"Are you in love with him?" he asked. There was a contemplative silence and then "Yes. I guess I am." Owen nodded. He'd expected nothing else.

"Why do you do this with me, then?"

"Owen… I don't know. Why do you?"

Owen shrugged and gazed into his glass. "Does… do you think he knows?"

There was bitter laughter and the answer came in an angry, hurt voice. "No, I don't think he's noticed. I _wish_ he'd notice."

Owen felt that he had put up with a lot for the sake of this relationship, this _thing_, whatever it was they had, but listening to his lover moon over another man was more than he was willing to take. His fingers curled tightly around his glass and his mouth curled into sneer. "Well, he doesn't," he said, "he doesn't notice, or maybe he doesn't care. Have you thought of that, or are you too fucking stupid? Maybe he knows, and he doesn't give a damn." He watched the hurt flash across Ianto's face and felt a moment's remorse. It was true though. He wasn't sure what Ianto thought he and Jack were doing, but Owen could see it wasn't as serious for Jack as it was for the tea-boy. Just as what they were doing wasn't as serious for Ianto as it was for him. He hated that, comparing himself to the pathetic, sniveling _tea-boy_. He hated this, sleeping with and caring about the pathetic, sniveling tea-boy. He hated himself, and he was ashamed, for so many reasons.

At the moment he was ashamed for lashing out at Ianto. They'd never promised each other anything, and it had been clear from their first drunken encounter at the Hub that they were both only using each other, for different reasons. For Ianto it was about Jack, about the fact that Jack had left him, about trying to move on as fast and as furiously as he could. When Jack had returned, Owen thought it would end; nothing changed, though, except Ianto's reasons. Now, it was about keeping distance between Jack and himself, and getting revenge in an absurdly harmful, passive-aggressive way.

For Owen, it had started out of jealousy. It had been about taking and having something that was Jack's. It had also been a power thing; having Ianto want and need him kept Owen over him, made Owen better than him. That was one of the myriad reasons Owen was ashamed. He honestly liked Jack, and he cared for Ianto. It was so complicated. His reasons, his _feelings_ had changed. He was beginning to hate Jack because Ianto would _always_ be his, and because Jack hurt Ianto so flippantly. And Owen was starting to love Ianto, maybe just a little, but, maybe an awful lot. It was difficult to tell because the good feelings were all tied up with the anger and the hurt. Owen couldn't separate the knot, couldn't even begin to sort thru it, because he couldn't find the place where one thread ended and another began. That wasn't the point though, and it really didn't matter. The point was that somewhere along the way it had stopped being about possessing and controlling Ianto, and now _Ianto_ had power over _him_. Now Owen was the one Ianto was standing over, and he hated himself.

"He'd care," Ianto said, " if only because we hid it from him. Don't fool yourself into thinking we're doing an alright thing."

"No, I know it's not alright. Some people would consider sleeping with your boss's boyfriend to be suicidal, and very, _very_ wrong. Even if he does give a damn, it might not be for the right reasons, Ianto." Ianto grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass. His face looked worried and angry and Owen was afraid he was crossing a line. It was hard to tell; they'd crossed so many together it was getting difficult to find them. "It might not be," Ianto said, "and I know I should care, but I don't. We don't live in a perfect world, Owen. Even if he doesn't love me, I'm okay with that." Owen burst out laughing, hard and loud. He laughed until his stomach hurt and tears were rolling down his cheeks. He laughed until he was afraid he couldn't stop.

When he'd composed himself, Ianto was staring at him bemusedly. "Please, share the joke. What's so funny?" Owen hitched in a breath and tried to figure out where to start. Nothing was _really_ funny, not about this, but it was either laugh or scream or start throwing punches. "You are such a liar." Owen finally said, "If you didn't care about that, you wouldn't be doing this. But you really don't believe that do you? You've really convinced yourself that it's okay if Jack doesn't love you; as long as he's with you it's all just fine. You really are that blind. Well, let me tell you something, baby. It's not okay, it's not right, and it's not fair. And, somewhere deep inside you, you know that. You know you'd be better off with almost anybody else. Shit, Ianto, you'd be better off with me." The rage didn't mask the fear and pain in his voice and Ianto's expression was less angry than compassionate. He also looked resigned and Owen knew that he'd just gone all in and lost. He still wasn't sure what the stakes had been, and it was his only hope that they hadn't been too high.

"I'm sorry Owen. You're probably right. I couldn't love almost anybody else, though. I love _him_, and I guess that's what it comes down to. Do you want to end this? I've always told you we can end this at any time."

"I wish you wouldn't say it like that. I wish I didn't know how easy I am to toss aside. You and Gwen, I'm not even good enough to make a decent second best for you people, am I?" Ianto took his hand and met his eyes. "That's not true, Owen. It wouldn't be easy, but I'm not keeping you here. I don't have the right. If this didn't mean something to me I wouldn't do it. It's your call, though, right now. Are we thru?" Owen didn't give himself time to think, just answered quickly, with his heart. "No. Not right now. We're okay for right now. I don't know how much longer I can take this."

Ianto nodded. "Right, then. Okay. Come to bed. Don't leave, just stay here and let's just forget about this for right now. Let's just sleep." Owen wanted to decline, to finish dressing and walk out. He wanted to take back what he'd just said and go home to his own empty bed, in his own empty flat and drown himself in pity about his wretched, empty life. He wanted to call it quits, throw in the towel, make this a thing that had been, but wasn't now. He wanted that almost as much as he wanted to crawl back into this bed and be held tight; he wanted that almost as much.

In the end, he slipped his jeans off and slipped back in between the sheets. It was still baking in the bedroom, but he rolled towards Ianto, seeking contact despite the heat. They laid together for a few minutes and then, despite his better judgment, Owen asked "Does he ever stay the night with you?" Ianto sighed and stroked his hair. "No, but I've never asked him to, either. Just sleep now, love. We both need to get some sleep."

Owen settled into the bed and tried his best not to feel awkward. This was wrong and it was painful and there was no way it was going to end well; but, at the end of the day, it was something he wanted. No matter the reason, and no matter the cost, he still wanted it, and that had to count for something.

DISCLAIMER: Torchwood is the property of the BBC and RTD. I own nothing, I make nothing.


	2. Release

Ianto was making breakfast, eggs and sausage by the smell of it, but Owen found he really couldn't be bothered to get out of bed. Not even the smell of fresh coffee, or the knowledge that if he didn't move soon he'd be forced out of bed rudely, were enough to rouse him. He was tired and he felt miserable. He would've liked to blame it on a late night of carousing, but he'd fallen asleep pretty early, and he hadn't had an eventful night before then. No, as much as he hated to admit it, it had been the nightmares that had kept him awake all night.

They'd been going on for the last two months, ever since he'd had his meltdown with Ianto, and for a while he'd been able to keep them under control. At first he'd simply taken a shot of something strong when he awoke suddenly in the night, and that had seemed to take care of it. Then it had progressed to the point that he hadn't been able to fall back to sleep if he wasn't in bed with someone, and even that had seemed manageable. It hadn't mattered that, for reasons he didn't like to think about, he was only ever in bed with Ianto these days, because their trysts occurred often enough not to leave him with too many sleepless nights. During that period, he would awake shivering and then bury himself in Ianto's warmth. Ianto would usually curl around him, holding him tightly in his sleep, and that had almost made the nightmares seem worth it. Then, about a week ago, not even whisky mixed with late night cuddling would do the trick. Owen had spent the last week almost constantly awake, only getting two, maybe three hours a night, and it was beginning to take it's toll. He was sleepwalking thru the day, screwing up menial tasks at work, blanking out when people were speaking to him, and fighting with his co-workers over petty, infantile things. It hadn't actually been too bad with Tosh or Gwen, he'd been able to keep a relatively civil tongue where they were concerned, but he was bickering with Ianto more than he'd like, and he'd pretty much started an all out war with Jack. It hadn't escaped Owen's attention that his insomnia and his fights with Jack were almost certainly caused by the same thing, but until this morning, he hadn't made up his mind to find a solution. Probably because he knew that there was only one reasonable solution, and that involved a conversation he really didn't want to have.

Today though, as lay in Ianto's bed too utterly exhausted to move, with his joints and head aching, and his eyes burning like they'd been salted, he knew the time had come. The time was long since past, actually. Owen heaved a sigh, and slowly climbed out of bed, willing his body not to give out on him. He pulled on last night's clothes, because he of course kept none over here, and made his shambling way into the living room.

Ianto greeted him with a cup of coffee, and a smile, looking for all the world like man without worries. He was wearing a tee shirt and pajama bottoms, his hair was disheveled, and he had almost an impish light in his eyes. He looked young and sweet and gorgeous, and in that moment Owen hated him more than he'd ever hated anything in his life. How was it fair that Ianto was able to sleep at night, that he was able to smile, and laugh and be so damn carefree, when Owen, who was only an accomplice in this crime, was left to feel like shit? _Christ, this isn't right, _Owen thought almost incoherently, and Ianto must have seen something of his thoughts on his face, because his smile faded and he moved to take his hand.

"Are you feeling alright this morning?" he asked, "because you look rather ill. Are you sick."

"No." Owen replied, his tone short, and he pulled his hand back without thinking. At the last moment he caught himself, and used his hand to scratch at his beard stubble, in a half-hearted attempt to cover the impudent gesture.

Ianto studied him for a moment, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, and then turned back to his breakfast. He'd looked hurt, and confused, and Owen wanted to put his arms around his shoulders, apologize and forget all about the conversation he'd planned. He almost did, because that would be easier, and far less hurtful, and Owen was too tired to do this. But, he was also far too tired not to, so in the end he sat down across from Ianto, folded his hands and said, "We need to talk."

Ianto remained silent, his face impassive, but for just a second he'd shown some emotion that might have been fear. Owen pushed the idea out of his mind, and focused on the speech he'd been planning for weeks.

"I haven't slept in weeks, Yan, and I keep having these nightmares. I keep dreaming that you get hurt, sometimes a weevil gets you, and sometimes it's a gunshot, but you're always dieing, and I try my best, I do everything I can, and I should be able to save you, but I can't. I'm just bloody sitting there holding you, and then he comes out of nowhere, and he takes you from me, and he kisses you and you live. Suddenly, you aren't even hurt anymore, and he has you in his arms, and he's laughing. I know it's fucked, but when I wake up, I can never tell if it was worse that I couldn't save you, or that he did. I know that's fucked, and so are we. It isn't fair, Ianto. I'm tired. I'm tired of playing second fiddle to a man that treats you like an afterthought, and I'm tired of feeling like shit every time you blow me off because I keep forgetting how precious Harkness is to you. He must be a stallion in the sack, because he isn't worth much else. He doesn't love you, Ianto. He will never love you. But, I do. That's the problem, right there. I love you. I'm not just the shag you have on weekends, when your boyfriend doesn't have time for you."

Owen was yelling at this point, but he didn't notice. The conversation he'd planned had turned into a tirade somewhere along the way, his anger had overtaken his sense and he was vaguely aware that he'd said things he was sure to regret later. He opened his mouth, whether to continue or apologize he wasn't sure, and Ianto cut him off.

"That's exactly what you are, Owen. And I'm just the shag you have when there's no one else. That's how this started, and I seem to recall having this out a few weeks ago, when we cam to the exact same conclusion. This is what it is, and there's nothing more to it. I tried to make that clear, and I never meant to lead you on. I'm sorry, Owen, I truly am, but if things have gone this far, I don't think we should let them go any further."

"No, I guess we shouldn't." Owen said, moving to get his things, "Go get your heart broken, again. Please, have at it. I really don't care anymore."

He angrily pulled on his shoes, grabbed his jacket and headed to the door. When he reached it he just stood for a moment, feeling like he should say something, or that Ianto should, but there was nothing but that awkward silence that comes at the end of all things, when it feels like every word has died. After a moment, when it became clear that there was nothing left, not one word, platitude, slogan or phrase, Owen left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

xxXXxx

When Ianto saw the door close so politely, he didn't fool himself into thinking that Owen was coming back. That soft, mannered little click held more finality than the loudest bang would have. He knew in his heart that it was over, and he knew that he should be feeling relieved, but instead he felt sick. His stomach knotted, his throat closed, his breath became shallow, and he knew he was on the verge of a panic attack. The feeling wasn't foreign to him, he'd suffered from them frequently after Canary Wharf, but it had been months since his last one. They'd started getting better after the horror with Lisa, because at least then it was finally over, and they'd gone away completely when he'd started seeing Jack.

Ianto stumbled into his bathroom, and tore the medicine cabinet apart looking for the bottle of Valium Owen insisted he keep on hand. He had a horrifying moment when he couldn't find it, thinking he'd have to suffer thru, and then he realized that he'd knocked it into the sink in his panic. He opened the bottle with shaking hands, and dry swallowed one of the little green pills. After it had taken affect, calming him enough to think, he realized his panic wasn't related to Owen leaving, at least not entirely. A large part of it had come from Owen's declaration before he'd left. Ianto had known for a while that Owen's feelings were deepening, but he'd hoped he'd never have to hear it. If he didn't hear it, it wasn't real, and if it wasn't real there were no consequences. But now, it was out there, fully articulated, and he was going to have to deal with it. What he'd been doing over the last few months had become very real, very quickly, and the guilt had hit him hard, along with a deep sense of foreboding. Ianto knew in his heart that he and Owen were finished, but he knew in his bones that finished didn't mean that this was done.

xxXXxx

Owen was worried when Ianto didn't show up on time that morning, but he chose not to think about it. What Ianto did, where he was or whom he was with, was no longer his concern. Ianto was twenty-five, and in a kind world that would still be almost a child, but their world was anything but kind, and Ianto could take care of himself. By the time lunch rolled around, and Ianto still hadn't put in an appearance, Owen was proud of himself that he wasn't thinking about it at all. If he looked around every time someone made a noise, or called Tosh by the wrong name when she brought him coffee, it was force of habit and nothing more. He felt he was dealing with the situation exceedingly well. He went about his day, performing autopsies and filing reports, and he most certainly wasn't thinking about Ianto. He even managed to mostly avoid Jack, which meant that he didn't get into a petty fight that now served no purpose. Owen's life was getting back on track. That is, until the rift alarm sounded, and he found himself alone in the SUV with Jack.

Owen honestly couldn't understand why he'd been chosen to accompany the boss, but he didn't appreciate it. Every time he looked at Jack's face he imagined Ianto touching him, kissing him, whispering soft non-sense words that held more meaning than all the conversations they had ever had. What was worse was the certainty he held deep in his heart, that Jack had never whispered those things back, that Jack had never once told Ianto that he loved him. Owen was surprised at the depth of anger he felt at that. He couldn't figure out if it was because Jack's indifference was more important to Ianto then his declarations of love could ever be, or if it was simply because Jack was hurting someone Owen loved. Either way, he felt a surge of hatred rise like bile in his throat, and he lost all sense of reason.

When Jack made some innocuous comment about life at Torchwood never being boring, Owen responded with, "Not for you, anyways. You have your play toy to occupy you in the downtime. Must be nice, having a good shag that's always at your beck and call." Jack's mouth tightened, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Okay," he said, "that's it. I know you've had some sort of problem with me lately, though I'm not sure what, but you will not bring Ianto into this. We are both happy with what we have, which you know nothing about. Whatever your issue with me is, it has absolutely nothing to do him, and our relationship is none of your business. Am I making myself clear, Owen, or do you need an exclamation point?"

Owen smiled, a mirthless bearing of teeth, and he actually _felt_ his rage consuming the last thread of his sanity.

"I know nothing about it?" he said, " and Ianto's so happy with you? You are either very dumb, or very arrogant, Harkness. You can't see what's right in front of your bleeding face. I know _all_ about you two. I know Ianto has a blind spot for you, which lets you walk all over him, I know that you enjoy having him around only because you can always bring him to his knees, I know that _he_ knows that, and I know that he is anything _but _happy with you. If he was, then why would he have spent the last five months fucking me?"

The minute the words left his mouth, Owen felt his entire body flush with heat. He knew that he had just burned every bridge that was important to him, and he was surprised to find himself reveling in the warmth of it. Jack sat silently for a moment, as if he hadn't heard, and then he wrenched the SUV around, bringing it up on two tires and throwing Owen against the side. He brought it to a stop on the shoulder of the road, threw his door open, and was around the front before Owen could register the movement. He wrenched the passenger door open and pulled Owen out by his shirt. There was a look in his eyes that was just short of murder, and Owen's spirits soared perversely to see it.

"What the hell did you just say?" Jack said, his face inches from Owen's. Owen laughed, and licked his lips.

"Oh, you heard me." he said, "What, are you really surprised? With the way you treat him? Please, Jack, if it hadn't been me, it would have been some bloke he picked up in a pub. You should feel lucky, really. At least I'm safe. Until he asks me not to be."

Jack pushed him back roughly, a look of revulsion filling his face. They stood in silence for a moment, Owen smiling insanely, Jack's fists clenched tightly. Finally, after what seemed like days, Jack said, "That's low Owen, even for you. If Ianto were sleeping with someone else, he'd tell me. And, never in a thousand years would it be you."

"You have such faith in him, that's touching." Owen said, "Sorry it's so misplaced. Ianto has a tattoo on his hip, a sort of tribal sun. He likes it when you lick it. Of course, that's not the only thing he likes to be-"

Owen's words were cut off as Jack's fist smashed into his lips. He fell backwards into the SUV, and when he stood up his ever-present smile was stained red.

"What?" he asked, "I thought you had an open thing going. Didn't really think this would be a problem."

"Well, you thought wrong. You've been fucking my boyfriend, behind my back, for God knows how long. You both betrayed me, betrayed the trust I put in you, and you didn't think it would be a problem? How could you do this? In what way did you think this was alright?"

Owen's smile finally faded as he heard the tone of Jack's voice. It sounded eerily like the pain and anger that had been in his own just that morning, and, for some reason, in killed his euphoria and replaced it with rage.

"I actually didn't." he said, "The whole thing was pretty fucked up from the start. But, see, I don't think you're the one that has the right to be angry."

"Excuse me?"

"We started when you left. You were gone, you left no word, and you just vanished. We didn't know if you'd ever be back. And then you waltz in here, and you start up with Ianto again, and I get pushed to the back burner. You were the one that got to have a real relationship with him, you were the one people got to know about, and I was left picking up the pieces every time you broke his heart. You take him for granted. You're too self-involved to realize what you've got with him, and I have to play second fiddle. To my mind, you're the one that took what should have been mine."

Jack took a step forward, his hands closed into fists, and when he spoke his voice was low and menacing.

"He's not an object, he doesn't belong to anybody. He made his choice and he chose me. You should have respected that."

Owen scoffed, and rolled his eyes.

"Please, he didn't choose anyone." he said, "He still kept up with me long after you came back. He had us both."

" Yeah, but when it comes down to love, it's my name he keeps mentioning. Did he ever scream it out when you were with him? He did, didn't he? How many times? Once? Twice? _Every_ time? Was he embarrassed, or did he expect you to understand? He's never called out your name when he's with me. In fact, he never mentions you at all."

Jack moved closer as he said this, until Owen could feel his breath against his face. For one fleeting moment, he felt the urge to end this here, to apologize and explain that he'd never meant much too Ianto, and that their thing was actually over. But, again, his frustration and rage won out and he said, "I suppose you're proud of that. I suppose you love the fact that he loves you so much. Well, _I_ love _him_, and I can't stand how you make him grovel. Fuck you, Jack."

"My standards are obviously higher than Ianto's. Not in a million years."

Owen smirked, and then he hit Jack with all the force of five months pent-up ire. Jack stumbled backwards, got his bearings, and then he charged.


	3. Knot

Ianto had spent the day obsessively cleaning his flat between panic attacks. He'd called into work for the first time since he'd started, because he hadn't wanted to face Jack or Owen. The guilt over what he'd done, what he'd been doing, over the last five months was eating him alive. He knew Jack would be okay with him straying every once in a while, but not with the fact that he'd been carrying on an affair for almost half a year. Especially since he'd been doing it with Owen, and especially since he'd kept it a secret. Jack hated secrets to be kept from him, which was why Ianto had done it in the first place. It had seemed almost righteous at the time, a fitting revenge for being abandoned when Ianto had needed Jack the most. Now that it was over, however, he felt like he'd just woken up from a dream. What had seemed perfectly logical before, he could now see as the insanity that it was.

By the time he'd taken his third Valium, rewashed all the dishes in his cabinets, he realized that he couldn't go on like this. What he needed was Jack. Jack to hold him and kiss him, and tell him everything would be okay, even though he didn't know what was wrong. Then he could call Owen and apologize. He knew that they would probably never be on civil speaking terms again, but he didn't really need forgiveness. He just needed Owen to know that he was sorry. That would be enough. With time, perhaps these things would fade, and he could move on with his life. He thought about confessing to Jack, but pushed the thought aside. That was the one sure way to end what they had, and Ianto couldn't bear that. It was selfish, and it was wrong, but Ianto had lost enough people he loved to last him a lifetime. He looked at his watch and saw that it was already half past four. By the time he got to the Hub, everybody else would be long gone, and that suited him just fine. Ianto grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

When he opened it he was surprised to see Jack in the hallway, looking like he wasn't sure if he should be there. Ianto gasped, but pulled himself together before it could become a scream.

"I wasn't expecting you," he said, "I was just on my way to the Hub. Please, come in." He stepped out of the doorway, and made the universal 'welcome' gesture. Jack walked in silently, his face impassive, and Ianto could tell something was wrong. Something bad enough to bring Jack all the way over to his flat, without calling, or even speaking a word. Ianto forced himself to smile as he took his coat off, and when he asked Jack what the trouble was, his tone was cheerful. It was met with stony silence, as Jack perused a bookcase he'd seen a thousand times before. They stood in an awkward hush, until Jack said, without turning around, "You know when you do something stupid and you feel badly about it, and talking helps?" Ianto took a deep breath.

"Yes, I suppose so." He said.

"Especially when you tell the person you did it too."

Ianto cocked an eyebrow at him, and leaned against the corner of the couch.

"Yes?" he said.

"Well?"

"Well, what have you done?"

Jack finally turned, his face surprised.

"Me? I didn't do anything."

"Oh. Well, okay then. Would you like a drink?"

Jack narrowed his eyes, and Ianto could tell that there was something he was missing. Or, rather, trying very hard not to get.

"No." Jack said, "Don't you have anything to tell me?"

Ianto's heart sank, but he tried to ignore the implication. Admitting things out of paranoia was no the way to handle this. Besides, his thing with Owen was none of Jack's business. Jack never shared his life with him, why should he be held to a different standard? He decided to play dumb until Jack got to the point.

"No, I don't think so."

"I'm trying to give you a chance here." Jack said, "I mean that would have been the perfect opportunity to tell about fucking Owen, don't you think?"

"Oh. No, not really. I didn't do that to you, you see, I did it to him, and he was there so he knows."

Jack blanched, and for just one moment Ianto felt his heart break. Then he thought of all the things Jack had done, and he felt anger eating up the guilt.

"_He_ knows?" Jack said, "Everybody knows! And you really don't think the fact you slept with him has anything to do with me?"

Ianto's jaw squared, and his hands tightened into fists. Jack, of all people, had no right to lecture him about his sex life. Especially not in his own flat. Any feelings of remorse he'd had earlier were gone, and it seemed absurd to him now that he'd had them in the first place.

"It doesn't," he said, " It was between him and me. You sleep with other people."

"No, I don't-"

"Yes, you do. I'm not stupid, and you don't hide it. You've never promised me anything, and you've never lied to me so please don't start."

"It's different." Jack said, flustered and almost yelling.

"Because it's you?"

"Because it's not him! You see him everyday. You work together, we all work together and now every time I look at the two of you, I'll know he knows you the way I do. It's complicated now." Jack ended in an almost despairing voice, as if he'd just lost his world.

Ianto felt himself give in slightly, but not enough. After everything they'd been thru and done to each other, he wasn't sure anything they did was enough.

"If you want it to be." He said, "You _could_ just let it go. We could just forget about it and move on, like we do every time your eyes and hands wander."

Jack shook his head and sat down on the sofa. He looked lost, and hurt, and Ianto wanted to hold him, to apologize and ask for forgiveness. In the end he just stood at the corner of the couch, twisting a loose thread, and waiting for Jack to speak. After what seemed like eternity, Jack finally said, "He says he loves you."

"Yes, he says that."

" And does he?"

"He says so."

"Do you love him?"

Ianto shuddered at the question. It was the one he'd been dreading, because there was no right answer and there was no true one, either. He would have to choose the one that was the _most_ true, and even he really didn't know what that was. The last five months had been so confusing he'd lost rack of what he really wanted. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and just began to speak.

" Shouldn't I?" He said, "Isn't that how this is supposed to go? I get myself into a loveless relationship with you, you break my heart daily, I have an affair with a man I can't stand and who has nothing for me, but we end up falling hopelessly in love, he saves me and we live happily ever after. Isn't that how it gets written and plays out on telly? Fuck it. I don't love him, I love you. He loves me, I love you and you love just about everybody else. See that's not complicated, everything's laid out in a neat little line."

"You think I don't love you?" Jack asked. Ianto sneered.

"Oh, I know you do, just not enough and not in the right way. Not the way he loves me. He would never do the things you do, he would never hurt me without even thinking, I would never be his second choice, he would never leave me, he would never be you, and you will never love me like he does. So I'm fucked. And you have the _temerity_ to question me."

By the time he'd finished tears were rolling down his cheeks, and his words were almost sobs.

Jack took a step forward, and Ianto could see that he'd succeeded in pissing him off if nothing else.

"If you really thought it was okay," Jack said, "if you really thought this thing you're doing wouldn't have an effect on us, you wouldn't have hidden it."

"Maybe I was hoping you'd notice." Ianto said, "But you never did. In all this time, with all the signs you never noticed a thing was wrong, and you never would have if he hadn't told you."

Jack made a noise somewhere between a growl and a laugh, and threw his hands in the air.

"So now I'm supposed to apologize to you?" He said, "I'm supposed to say I'm sorry that I trusted you enough I didn't suspect anything? Well, you know there really wasn't anything to suspect. You're a gifted liar Ianto. I should have known that after you kept a cyber-woman in the basement. So what am I supposed to say?"

"Nothing." Ianto said, realizing it was true, "There's nothing to say. Owen and I, we're over. You and I don't have to be."

"The fact that you can use 'Owen and I' in a sentence, kind of negates that."

"Jack, I-"

"No." Jack said, moving towards the door. "There is nothing else. We're thru. When we're at work, that's just what we'll be: boss and employee. And whatever you and Owen are is none of my business."

Jack threw the door open and was gone before Ianto could reply. He thought of going after him, but he couldn't really see the point. Much like this morning, this felt final. Ianto started laughing as he realized the implications of that. His life had just come crashing down around him, for the second time in as many years, and he wasn't sure how much was his fault. A good bit, at least, but some of it belonged to Jack, some to Owen, some to the daleks and some to the Doctor that he wasn't worthy enough to know about. Ianto sat on his sofa and thought of the complete and utter fucking his life had taken since Canary Wharf, and he laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

xxXXxx

Owen stood outside Ianto's door, fidgeting, unsure if he should knock. After he'd cleaned and bandaged his wounds, he'd felt an insane urge to come over here, though he knew Jack would have already been. It was probably _because_ he knew Jack would have been, and, as angry as he was with Ianto, he needed to make sure he was all right. This was his fault, after all.

He took a few deep breaths, steadied his nerves, and rang the bell. Ianto answered almost instantly, puffy eyed and bedraggled. His face flashed murderously when he saw it was Owen, and he looked about to scream, and then stopped. Owen watched him take in the bruises and the self-stitched cuts, and watched as Ianto's internal struggle between pity and anger played itself out on his face. Owen steeled himself for a verbal beating, but in the end Ianto simply said, "I should rip your head off."

Owen shrugged.

"You'd have a right to," he said, "I'm sorry. But, I was pissed off, Yan. Everything you feel for Jack, that's how I feel about you. I shouldn't have done what I did, but…"

Ianto nodded and cleared the way for him to come in.

"He ended it with me." Ianto said, and Owen shrugged again.

"Well, there's a lot of that going around these days. I brought beer, and I was going to bring pizza, but I decided on whisky instead."

He moved to put the bags on the table, and Ianto stopped him with a hand.

"Just because Jack and I are over, doesn't mean I'm starting with you again. I'm still so angry with you, I could kill. The only reason I let you in is because I think I need a friend, and I'm fresh out these days. Gwen would be angry with me, and Tosh… she'd be angry for different reasons. I want to be clear about that."

Owen frowned and pushed Ianto's hand off of his arm.

"I love you," he said, "and what I did today isn't the best proof of that, but it's true. I love you. I understand that we may never be together; I understand that Jack may come around and you two will live happily ever after, and I am _not_ okay with that. Not in the least. But, I will be someday, and until then I need to be near you. Just to make sure that you're okay. So, what do you say? Can we be friends?"

Ianto bit his lip. "I don't know," he said "What you did was kind of unforgivable. But, it's not the first unforgivable thing either of us has done to the other, so I guess we can try."

Owen smiled, and opened a beer for each of them. "I was thinking we could watch a movie." He said, "Something with a lot of action, take our minds off things. You up for it?"

Ianto nodded and they settled down on the couch, not too close, but not too far away either. By the second half of the movie he'd had brought, Owen was feeling slightly better. He realized it didn't matter if Ianto reconciled with Jack, or if he found a place in his heart for him, or if he moved on completely. Anything would have to be better than the secret hell he'd been living in. And it would have to better for Ianto. Maybe, with enough distance, they could figure out where they belonged in each other's lives. By the time the credits were rolling, Owen was asleep against Ianto's armrest, snoring slightly, and dreaming peacefully for the first time in months.


End file.
